


Short and Sweet (like your boyfriend)

by wibbilywobbilycombatwombat



Category: Fall Out Boy, patrick stump - Fandom
Genre: Baking, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, sleepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 04:32:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14560938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wibbilywobbilycombatwombat/pseuds/wibbilywobbilycombatwombat
Summary: I found this in my writing binder with "postable?" written on top so here we go with a cute fluffy sleepless night.





	Short and Sweet (like your boyfriend)

I toss and turn and grumble. Patrick sighs beside me, and turns over to face me. 

"What's wrong?" He asks. 

"I'm not tired," I grumble. He sighs more deeply and sits up to turn on the lamp. 

"Alright." He rubs his eyes, "Let's go do something." 

"You don't have to get up." 

"It's fine. I don't want you to worry about waking me up." 

I step out of bed, tugging the hem of my big tshirt over my bare legs. Patrick gets up and rolls back his shoulders before adjusting his shirt and boxers. I try to discreetly fix my wedgie. 

"Ok. What do we do?" 

"I don't know. Bake a cake?" He chuckles sleepily, "What time is it?" 

"2:49." I read out, "Clearly the optimal time for cake." 

"Are you going to be cold?" He asks, looking at my legs. 

"There's no way I'm putting on pants." I tell him. 

"Fair enough." 

"Is it even worth it to get out a recipe? You know, at 2:50, that we're going to take some creative liberties or just mess the whole thing right up." I say as he digs around the recipe books in the kitchen.

"Hush," He giggles. "Can you get out eggs and flour and stuff?" 

I walk around the kitchen accumulating ingredients. When I dump all the supplies onto the counter and report back to Patrick, he has found a recipe that doesn't involve boiling water or buttermilk, thankfully. It likely isn't safe to play with boiling water at this hour, in our state. And I don't want to bother making sour milk to substitute buttermilk. 

"Bless." I say, holding up the recipe. I pick up an egg and hold it over the bowl  
Patrick has just placed on the counter. "Do you wanna bet I can crack this with one hand?" 

"No."

"Ok here we go." 

"Please crack it normally-" 

"Mmf." I say, defeated, my hand covered in egg white. 

Patrick sighs and takes the bowl away to pick out the bits of egg shell. I toss the egg shell in my hand into the trash and wash my hands. 

"Pattycakes." I say, and he turns to face me. "I love you." I say sheepishly. 

"I love you too." He says tiredly, and I press a kiss to his lips before continuing the baking. 

Patrick is stirring the wet ingredients while I work on the dry. I pick up the salt. 

"Patrick?" I ask. He looks up and spots the salt. Alarm crosses his face as remembers the last salt incident. We still haven't gotten all of our spoons clean. 

"I got it." He says quickly, and I take up his stirring as he picks up the quarter teaspoon. I heavily grease a pan that was meant to be lightly greased and preheat the oven before helping to combine the two mixed bowls and a cup of milk. Once the cake is in the oven, I point to a chair. 

"Please?" 

Patrick sits down and wraps his arms around me as I sit in his lap and lean back on his shoulder. 

"Well, now we have to stay up until it's done cooking. This was an awful idea." Patrick says as I yawn. I don't bother reminding him that it was his idea.


End file.
